Sos. Why, how should I enter? unless I were a spirit, to glide by him, and shoot myself through locks, and bolts, and two-inch boards.
Amph. O coward! Didst thou not attempt to pass?
Sos. Yes, and was repulsed and beaten for my pains.
Amph. Who beat thee?
Sos. I beat me.
Amph. Didst thou beat thyself?
Sos. I don't mean I, here: but the absent Me beat me here present.
Amph. There's no end of this intricate piece of nonsense.
Sos. 'Tis only nonsense, because I speak it, who am a poor fellow; but it would be sense, and substantial sense, if a great man said it, that was backed with a title, and the eloquence of ten thousand pounds a-year.